


No Heroes; Quite Human, Indeed

by unluckitty



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe- Thriller, Blood, Body Horror, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Horror, Immortal!Jaemin, Knives, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Serial killer!Haechan, Traumatic ish backstory, Twisted Characters, this can be read at face value or you could go REALLY deep into Philosophical Pondering (as i have)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unluckitty/pseuds/unluckitty
Summary: How does one go about charming a possible serial killer one meets in a back alley whilst being head-hunted? In Jaemin's case, apparently just by existing. After all, fate has its favourites and if he's learnt anything from his 263 year life so far, it's that he's one of them.The carrier of life and the bringer of death aren't so different; they're both just as twisted.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: '00 FIC FEST ROUND TWO





	No Heroes; Quite Human, Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #00186: Eat shit really wasn't the best insult he ever came up with but it's hard trying to be angry at a person that looks like THAT lying on his bed.
> 
> Read the tags...you've been warned.

“Eat shit” wasn’t Jaemin’s best insult he’d ever came up with, but it was hard trying to be angry when Donghyuck was sleeping like a dead man on  _ his _ bed, ironically with his mask still on and a splatter of blood on an arm sticking out the blanket. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it any louder than his normal speaking voice, but Donghyuck resurrected himself, sticking a tongue out at him and promptly falling asleep again. A content smile played on his lips. 

“Could you at least go clean yourself up?”

“Can’t. No energy, no magic, you know the drill.”

“Then go use a shower like a human, I don’t know,” Jaemin took it upon himself to squeeze into his bed next to him, using his feet to hopefully push him out but Donghyuck just cuddled closer. “Ey, no getting blood on  _ me _ .”

“What? It’s caked anyway.”

“Why do you even have it on you today? Usually you like…”

“Clean up?” Donghyuck sighed, smoky breath slithering over Jaemin’s neck. Not an unusual sensation; in fact quite familiar. “This guy tonight put up a fight, I must say. But still, no match for a professional or whatever.” Fingers ran through Donghyuck’s hair, detangling the odd knot. 

“Mhm. I see.”

“Are you having fun?” Came the daily question. Donghyuck always made it a point to ask this, which was out of both curiosity and...care, for lack of better words. After all, having lived at least 100 years or so by now with perhaps 5 times more to go, it’s an intriguing question. 

Jaemin thought for a moment, now flicking off some of said caked blood from his hand. It crumbled with the slightest touch. 

“I’d say so, yeah.” Donghyuck placed a kiss on the side of his lips, smiling. 

“Good. I am too.”

  
  


Being blessed- cursed- with some anti-aging powers that he’d only discovered when he hit the ripe age of 18, made Jaemin a little different. Alternatively, he certainly didn’t expect to be chased down a street at 3 in the morning by some ‘authorities’. 

Street lamps buzzing by, the occasional car honk piercing his ears before very soon receding into an echo, bouncing throughout his mind as if it were an empty auditorium, some shouts and nothing but jogging shirt and jeans on. Tipsy after leaving some party he didn’t even know (or meet) the host of. Tripping over litter and getting right back up because fucking hell, it’s not his fault he’s in this situation. 

Eventually ducking into a sketchy alleyway behind the pub, which he quickly discovered was an urban maze. A noisy sewer pipe running alongside it was probably his only way of direction, but at this point did he have much of a choice? Something would emerge at the other side, he was sure of it- be it angel or demon, heaven or hell. Just run, he pounded in his head. 

Water. He needed water; he hasn’t drunk anything for the past half hour other than some burning shot of who-fucking-knows-or-cares, and now his head was giving way despite his legs being on some sort of treadmill shit. Vision starting to blur along with the moon, he hung his head low, hands on knees that were definitely going to give out any minute. Back against a mossy, crunchy wall that had rough paint spikes digging right in. But it was still better than having a thousand needles poked into him, quite literally sucking the life out of him. 

It was better than letting  _ him _ get what he wanted. 

Another pair of feet appeared in front of his, wearing worn muddy trainers. Then, a body, wearing a fairly large coat and gloved hands holding cigarette in one and box in the other. Perfectly etched face, although it was kind of hard to tell in lowlight and on the verge of fainting. Also 2 twinkles from the pockets of the coat: one dark and one light. A husky voice.

“Rarely do I get sought out by someone,” it said with a dizzying smile. Whoever this guy was, why hadn’t Jaemin seen him before? But he didn’t have time to contemplate, not right now. 

“Good evening so I’m sort of running from-”

“Them? Their bark is worse than their bite, trust me,” the end of the cigarette glowed, a comforting orange. Jaemin was still breathless, for multiple reasons now.

“Yeah, so if you could let me pass that would be _ great _ .”

“Magic word?” Jaemin tilted his head, his vision now slowly steadying. Quite plush lips, red with the nightly cold, but sunglasses or some mask covering his eyes. Strange, but that was the least of his worries. 

“Magic word?” he repeated, incredulous. The man smiled and nodded. Now that he could see properly, that dark twinkle looked awfully like a gun. Jaemin was smart enough to deduce what the light one was. He gulped and his head rolled back again under its own weight.

“Uh. Please?” The man giggled and scrunched his nose. 

“I might just let you pass for that one.”

“Okay gr-”

“But nah. I live to cause problems on purpose,” he calmed down and nodded again, almost with an air of professionalism. 

He leaned in, also cocking his head and studying Jaemin head to toe (though if he was honest, there wasn’t much to see). Without him reaching down, the light twinkle transferred itself to his hand, cigarette snubbed out and orange glow gone. Replacing it, a dull blade being loosely gripped. So, this is the beginning of hell, Jaemin thought, before giving his mind up. His head was being squeezed from the inside out, squeezing out the ability of coherent thought, but not in the way a headache would. 

He held his breath, sticking his back even more onto the wall but arms frozen by his side. 

“I-I have many days left and...and would not like to spend them tied up in your basement and choking,” he squeaked, and something forced his eyes to shut. 

Chains were thrown around his mind, making them impossible to open again, hopefully just for the time being. A calming sensation washed over him, forcing his shoulders to droop. He imagined this was what it would be like being put to sleep. Light pressure traced his cheek, jaw, chin, and his eyes could pop open again. The man had stood back a little now and lowered the knife. 

“Kinky. But no, you’d be prettier alive and limbs intact.”

“Thanks? I think that applies to most people.” At least his mouth still apparently belonged to him, though dry as fuck.  _ Water.  _

The knife returned to its place by the man’s side and an empty hand stuck out to him. Jaemin stared at it blankly. Come to think of it, the sirens and shouts had completely disappeared now, and it was as if only the two of them existed. 

The man took back his hand, clicking his tongue. 

“Damn. Well, I have a deal for you.”

“I shall pass on it, thanks.”

“You are basically immortal,” the man continued anyway, pointing at him. “And the authorities want you to be their new lab rat, I take.” Jaemin couldn’t argue with that. 

“So what do you want from me? I don’t have much on me at th-” 

“Let me finish.” Jaemin fell silent again and the man smiled again, satisfied. “I keep you safe, and you give me some company.” 

Jaemin turned the thought over in his head, probably looking for some loophole but trying to think whilst having a headache was like uncooking an egg. Why the fuck was he even considering this? Maybe he was still being mind-controlled- having his brain opened and dissecting every thought that had ever run through it. An image of him lying on a white table flashed before him: he was naked and had been transformed into effectively a machine hybrid. Not one of the calculations he was carrying out was done under his will. 

“So? What will it be?”

“Do you at least have a name? A house?”  _ Why the fuck was he even considering this? _

“Lee Donghyuck. And yeah, I happen to. It’s comfortable for two.” This ‘Donghyuck’ spoke smoothly, in a neutral tone. Again, like a professional. As if he’d made this offer a thousand times before. Jaemin shivered, but took his hand nonetheless. There was definitely a damp spot by the thumb of the glove and it left a cold, sticky feeling on his hand, like unfloured bread dough. Donghyuck wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him in the direction he was planning to go in. 

He still needed water, but now that someone was actually helping (forcing) him to walk, all of a sudden he was a spider caught in his own web. 

All that Jaemin remembered on top of this was collapsing on a rock-hard couch and a blanket being hastily thrown over him, though not covering his head. He could definitely still breathe, but he fell asleep questioning how much longer that would last. 

Jaemin woke up to a glass of water next to him, glaringly bright lights and the whir of a coffee machine. Or at least, he hoped that it was water, a ceiling light and a coffee machine- it could be poison, the sun and a chainsaw for all he knew. Damn, his head was hurting like hell. Either way, he gulped down whatever liquid was in the glass, nearly spilling it over himself and the blanket. There weren’t any twinkles in sight. He was wearing the same clothes as last night, except now spotless. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” a vaguely familiar voice came. It was Donghyuck, from the kitchen; rather modest and normal, as was everything in his house. Huh. 

Jaemin suddenly became overly aware of a hard block of something on his stomach, looking down and expecting it to be a brick but no- just his phone. Which was completely flat. His arms and legs were completely free to move. 

“Breakfast. Or lunch, if you prefer. It’s past noon,” Donghyuck placed a plate with a ham sandwich (cut diagonally) next to the glass with an apologetic smile. Jaemin blinked himself awake, feeling his head, his legs, his torso. Nothing was out of the ordinary, other than that bastard of a headache. 

“Do you have aspirin? And uh...thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah sure. It’s the weekend, so I have no work today.”

“It’s the weekend?” This guy  _ works _ ? Neither of these things ever occurred to him. 

Donghyuck was rummaging around a cupboard, but called behind his shoulder, 

“Sure is. I wouldn’t recommend going out though.”

“As if I was even thinking of that,” Jaemin scoffed, consuming the sandwich faster than humanly possible. Donghyuck sat down at the other end of the couch and a bottle opening itself. 

“I wouldn’t go out in that sort of rain either way.” Oh, it’s raining too. He hadn’t noticed. “Anyway, here you go. You need more water? Oop, I guess not. Well, I’m glad you’re sitting down Jaemin, because there’s no better time to tell you shit than now.”

Jaemin hadn’t recalled ever telling Donghyuck his name. He must’ve read the papers or something; he’d popped up on the headlines occasionally alongside the words “superpowers” and “miracle cure”. Flames danced within his vision again at the thought of the newspapers, licking the paper dry. 

“Actually there is, but go on,” he lay back down on the couch, his bones on his spine feeling like they were being tweezed out one by one, not incomparable to a fish in a butcher store. 

“Welcome to my humble abode, where I hope you will make yourself comfortable. At least a human can take care of itself, unlike a dog,” he muttered like an afterthought.

“Are you comparing me to a dog?”

“Depends, but you don’t seem like a bitch,” he continued without missing a beat, “But anyway, you will keep your end of the deal up, I shall keep mine, and we will live in peace, yes?” Donghyuck’s eyes were serene, with no signs of bags even though he’d slept later and woke up earlier. He got up and cleared away the empty plate next to Jaemin without waiting for the answer, and Jaemin thought he could make out water from the tap already flowing out two seconds before Donghyuck had even touched it. 

He stretched out his arms and fell asleep again, and slept for the rest of the afternoon. Intermittent mutters and whispers orbited him, but for the most part, Donghyuck was also silent.

A week passed strangely fast, so much so that Jaemin wondered if Donghyuck’s illusion-creating witchcraft also applied to time. They’d fallen into a somewhat routine in which Donghyuck would head out early in the mornings, pressed tie and perfectly white shirt and return late evening in the same clothes, as if not even a fly had touched them. Jaemin would have the day to himself, being told (via multiple notes left by his ‘bed’, scrawled handwriting and chewed pencil) to feel free to raid through the entire house until his heart content. Of course, out of either courtesy or cautiousness or both, he never did.

It was only on a Sunday night in the second week, when Donghyuck slunk out the door with not so much as a goodbye at near midnight, gloves on and a brand new set of trainers. They didn’t look like his size. 

Jaemin had stayed up that night, watching whatever late night shit TVs showed, crawling his time by. When you have at least 400 years left to live, there’s no guilt in wasting it. Jaemin had yet to decide whether or not this was a bad thing. 

A little while through his fifth show (honestly he hadn’t even paid attention to the titles of them, let alone the ‘plot’), Donghyuck let himself in, now dressed in casual attire. He was wearing boots. 

“Ooh, I haven’t seen the next episode of this one!” his eyes lit up, throwing said boots off and snuggling down next to Jaemin. A faint bleachy scent wafted off the sleeve of his shirt. 

Just when Jaemin’s eyes were about to shut off, there was unintelligible murmuring from his left shoulder. As he looked down, Donghyuck’s eyelashes fluttered, his mouth still possessed or something along those lines. Even with just a slight nudge to the side, he blinked awake, registered that he was still leaning half on Jaemin’s shoulder and sat fully up. Something at the back of his mind started turning at that sight: bedraggled hair, soft but still sleepy eyes and most of all, that fucking insistent soap scent. 

“I wouldn’t think there’s enough space for 2 on this sofa of yours.”

“Implying I was going to sleep here,” Donghyuck stood up and brushed his clothes down. The drone of the TV was still going in the background, as well as the ceiling lights. Jaemin wondered how much he was willing to be spending on electricity bills. 

“Good night then, Na,” he yawned, stretching himself until his shirt lifted and exposed his tummy, to which he quickly lowered it and grinned, child-like. Jaemin grinned back. 

He also hadn’t recalled ever telling him his surname, though maybe he also owed that to the articles again. He sighed and finally clicked off the TV and lights, before hurrying back to the sofa whilst his eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. And stillness. 

A halo of light came from down the corridor, presumably where Donghyuck’s room was. At this point, he probably ought to know, and eventually he would. Just...not now. Perhaps being immortal cursed him with triple the tendency to procrastinate. He lay down on his sofa once again, waiting for the night to pass. Low whistling resonated through the corridor to the living room as if the wind could talk. 

“I don’t know much about you, Donghyuck,” Jaemin was seated at the dining table one sunny afternoon, his host in question insisting on cooking lunch. A sizzle and pop came from the pan. 

“That’s ‘cause you just never ask.”

“All I know so far is that your favourite animal is rabbits, you work a fairly well-paying office job full time, you sometimes use magic to do the simplest of tasks, and you may or may not be a serial killer in your free time.”

“Of all the things you question, I do wonder why it’s the last one,” Donghyuck said in his usual smooth tone, before suddenly jumping back from the stove with a yelp. He recollected himself and continued as if nothing happened, 

“My favourite animal is actually a wombat.”

“What exotic taste,” Jaemin rolled his eyes. 

“And you?” Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, plates and bowls clattering into the sink. On most days he’d create an illusion that they were indeed washed, just to avoid the nagging from Jaemin (as he quickly learnt could be quite often in terms of housework), and do them later when he could be bothered. Although sometimes he’d arrive home and they would’ve already been done. Noted: Jaemin was a bit of a perfectionist. Nothing wrong with that.

“Dogs are pretty good. I like samoyeds.”

“That’s respectable.” The shush of water from the faucet and more sizzling from the pan, but other than that they fell into a comfortable silence. Eventually the sizzling stopped and soon they were seated across each other, steaming plates of food in front of them. Apparently the struggle had been worth it. 

“You know, there is one other thing I wonder about you…” Donghyuck blew on his food, though clearly not enough- his hand flew to his mouth and Jaemin smiled in amusement. 

“Go on.”

“So…” he said once his mouth stopped burning, “ _ Are _ you a vampire? Because if so that would be immensely useful to me.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” Jaemin answered at once, to Donghyuck’s surprise. He hadn’t specifically anticipated this question, but to say he’s thought about the possibility himself was an understatement. As well as random degrees in the nichest subjects, Jaemin was also a pro at contemplation. “But if my memory isn’t wrong, my great great... great? Grandmother was. I don’t know if she’s still alive or something- last time I heard, she’d run off somewhere with her wife.”

“I didn’t ask about your bloodline, but I do appreciate your great great great grandmother being gay. Men are trash.” Jaemin wheezed at that, blowing on his own food (sufficiently, unlike Donghyuck) and took a bite. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely tasted mediocrely well done, and for that he had to commend Donghyuck. 

“Men are trash,” he repeated, mouth full and stomach content. This was...comfortable. 

A recurring dream kept coming to Jaemin, insistent, every night that he could remember. In this dream, he would usually be arguing with someone- he’d always forget who straight after waking up, but not that it particularly mattered- whom by the time he woke up, would have their blood smeared across his hands. Methods of this murder varied night to night, but every single time the sky would cry inky tears, and the ground would scream out of a gaping hole covered in saw-like teeth. Sometimes Jaemin could recall dream-him throwing himself into said hole, and being swallowed whole in one gulp; the earth licking her lips and awaiting the next dream-him to arrive for the perfect cycle to continue. And more often than not, he would wake with that horrible sticky feeling that you’ve just been thrown off a cliff but in reality here he was: still on Donghyuck’s couch, in his living room, sometimes that same halo glow from his room if he’d gone to sleep later that night. 

You could say this dream haunted him, was just waiting for him every time he fell asleep. Jaemin never tried to stop it though. He deserved it. 

“You okay there, Na?” he gasped awake early one morning to a concerned-looking Donghyuck peering down at him. He was half-dressed for work, his tie carelessly slapped on, sleeves folded and his pyjama shorts still on (they were flamingo print). A firm hand pressed down on his chest but not firm enough to completely cut off his airflow, as if he was feeling for his pulse. Which of course, was there, just racing. 

The curtains hadn’t been opened yet, which was Jaemin’s morning alarm at this point. But nonetheless, sunlight leaked around them, illuminating a thin strip stretching from the window next to him to the kitchen. 

He rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. 

“What?” Donghyuck sat down next to him, floating a glass of water from the dining table over. It nearly toppled over as he clumsily bumped it into the edge of the coffee table, and he quickly reached out to steady it, then offering it by hand to Jaemin. 

“You’ve been dreaming, haven’t you? Dreamer recognises dreamer.”

“You could say that,” Jaemin downed half the cup in one go. His throat now feeling back to normal, he continued, “Living for so long kinda means you have double the haunting past a normal person has.” Donghyuck nodded, his gaze tracing from the sleep-marks on his arm to his tired, empty eyes, usually lively. He made a mental note to get an extra bed at some point and set it up in the spare room that weekend. Hopefully it wouldn’t cost too much but then again, something about seeing Jaemin every morning cocooned up on his shitty ass couch made his chest hurt. 

“It’s a bit of a long story.”

“And I’m early today. We have time.” Jaemin placed the glass, emptied, back on the table. 

“Where to start?”

“At the who, what, where, why.”

“Well...the ‘who’ part would be my most recent partner, ex, boyfriend, whatever. ‘What’ would be attempted murder-”

“Didn’t expect that from you,” Donghyuck interrupted then, earning dagger eyes which immediately shut him up. Jaemin took a breath and continued. 

“Yeah, surprisingly it’s my first and only attempt in my whole 263 year life so far. 

‘Where’... I don’t remember well. It wasn’t something I was aware of or cared about at the time I guess, and my memory isn’t too good, ironically. The ‘why’ would be because he ratted me out, apparently with ‘good intentions’, whatever the  _ fuck _ those even were.” Jaemin flicked his arm 3 times, to awaken himself a little more and channel the surge of anger he’d get from recalling the event. 

Time had passed since then, and the destructive nature of the channeling had much decreased. The scars of this were equal to its cause. 

Jaemin had avoided eye contact with Donghyuck until now, for his own sake, but nearly wasn’t surprised to look up to a grave, hardened expression. Brows furrowed, buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves hanging by a thread now from being constantly fiddled with, lips tightened to a line. And then, they curled to a rather gentle smile. His shoulders drooped, completely relaxed, and he asked, 

“Do you want me to finish what you started?”

It wouldn’t be too inaccurate to say that Jaemin felt like a sleep-paralysis demon as he stood next to a now lifeless body, a pillow censoring the face. Donghyuck stood on the opposite side of the bed, neither smiling or frowning. 

“You really dated such a weak guy?” he gestured to the body. Jaemin was still, letting the muffled, useless screams that collapsed to ghost-like moans echo and replay through his head. Simply a couple thrashes and childish kicks of the legs, and suddenly it all had stopped. 

The complete blindness and absolute freedom of going insane at least for a while. 

Donghyuck’s noise barrier was still holding as strong as before they’d even entered and even in the dim light, Jaemin could see his chest rising and dipping at a perfectly normal pace, compared to his own shallow, hasty breathing. No skin off  _ his _ back. 

They’d always been alone. 

Donghyuck poked at the arm, the skin taking longer than usual to bounce back- or maybe it was that time dilation kicking in again. A tiny red spot started to form on the pillow, eating its way out from the middle outwards. A memento of a taken life. 

“Apparently so,” Jaemin followed suit, prodding more with the end of a scalpel. They both stood in silence almost like a small memorial ceremony of their own, although Donghyuck hardly cared for that. He was about to leave when a small tug on the arm pulled him back. 

“Wait, first.”

Donghyuck watched from the door, Jaemin crossing to the other side of the bed so that he was on the right side of the body. 

Shaking, he slotted the blade across the knuckle of the ring finger, now frozen, limp and sicklishly pale. He turned the hand over and did the same on the other side, before setting the knife on the bed and using his hands to crack the joint away instead, not unlike deboning a chicken wing. Deep breath. The finger came away without much resistance, a couple drops of blood leaking out from the cut end onto the sheets. A small but satisfying crack, leaving exposed bone hanging by a string of something. The nail bed was a ghostly beige colour, and almost seemed to glow in the dark. Feeble hairs on top flattened completely, and Jaemin plucked one off with a nimble grip. He let it drift to the floor. The end of the scalpel glinted as he adjusted his grip and made a few slashes on the skin’s surface, and squeezed the liquid out. It was startlingly warm as it ran through and in between his own fingers. 

He glanced to Donghyuck, leaning himself against the door frame but clearly in no hurry. Instead, he gestured for him to continue. Maybe that was a fond smile on his face. 

Still shaking a little but not nearly as much as before, Jaemin slid a gold ring off of the finger, leaving a whitish indent. Another deep breath, another memento. The text on the ring had worn off over the years, ironically. 

“Sentimental, are we?” Donghyuck said lowly. His voice too, reverberated through Jaemin’s skull. 

“It was a promise ring, I remember I gave it to him on our second anniversary. I’m not surprised he still wears- wore- it.”

“And yours?”

“Thrown in the fire,” Jaemin replied with a slightly gritty undertone; a half-growl. He turned it over in his palm a couple times and let the coldness soak through. Into the pocket it went, as he padded over to where Donghyuck was standing and took one last look at the body. How beautiful a sight. 

How lovely it was, to kill. 

His breathing was back to normal now, in fact perhaps slower than before. With the snap of his fingers, the scalpel was back with Donghyuck, the pillow was cleaned of its stain and the finger no longer detached. He murmured something about it looking simply like he’d died naturally in his sleep. Clearly he’d rehearsed this song and dance before. 

“Seen enough?” Donghyuck slung an arm around his shoulders, Jaemin instinctively leaning into his side. He blinked a couple times, as if trying to prevent his own eyes sinking in their sockets. His knees tingled and his hands somewhat felt like they’d fall off any moment now. 

“Yeah. I think so.” 

“Okay then,” Donghyuck pressed a kiss to his temple, noiseless. 

They changed out of their current clothes, still with a noise barrier, and got a bus home.

Bit by bit, day by day, the dream started to disintegrate into the blackness, until it was but another distant memory. 

The mechanics of Jaemin’s ‘power’ were ambiguous, even to him, but as far as he knew, the gist was that for every arbitrary human year that passed, he would appear to remain the same age for some certain amount of time, before gradually transitioning to the next. As in: he could be 23 years old for 23 years, perhaps 34 for 50...but he wouldn’t know. 

One thing he could really say was useful about this, was that he could enter and re-enter studies any time he wanted (with fake names and details of course- that was something Donghyuck really came in handy for) and get pretty much any job he felt like. But for the time being, he opted for a simple librarian assistant. He missed the smell of books, but mostly it was being cooped up in Donghyuck’s house all day, feeling rather useless. Sometimes a switch would turn inside of him that told him that it was about time he became a functioning member of society, and quite frankly, he didn’t have anything better to do. Not to mention that nowadays he could afford to make the joke that he was “killing time”. Donghyuck laughed the first 3 times, and only the first 3 times. 

He’d settle until Donghyuck either got taken away, died naturally or drove himself insane. Jaemin safely ruled out the first and third options. It was just a matter of time, as was with everything in his life. Something that may take up to one lifetime for an average person was simply a phase in Jaemin’s. Again, something he hadn’t decided whether it was a blessing or a curse. 

“Not that I particularly want you to, but how come you don’t just...torture me? Try and kill me. I’d be the ideal victim,” Jaemin said off-handedly one evening. It was late, but neither of them had work the next day and they’d probably drunk a cup too much of alcohol, their monopoly game was cast aside and forgotten. This was probably for the best. 

“I cause no harm to people I know or have direct connections to. It would be stupid after all,” Donghyuck lay down on the carpet, legs and arms sprawled out. Jaemin did the same. 

“What about when we first met then? It wasn’t until after that when you ‘knew’ me, so to speak.” Donghyuck thought for a moment at that, before rolling over and slinging an arm across Jaemin’s chest. 

“I get lonely sometimes, and like I said at least a human can take care of itself. When I said company, I meant alive and not screaming their lungs dry, kind of company. Also, you wouldn’t look so pretty without that head of yours or a severed arm or something.”

“...Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Simply an observation, my love.” They lay in silence, each wandering with their own wild thoughts. A single car wooshed down the road every 5 minutes. Jaemin got back up, leaning against the side of the sofa, Donghyuck grumbling in protest and pouring himself another cup. 

“So, how many people have you killed?”

“About 40.”

“How many have you wanted to kill?”

“About 40.”

“Damn,” Jaemin said. His tone was neither admiring, impressed or critical, rather it was as neutral and emotionless as it could get. “What a body count.” 

“What is this suddenly, an interview?” If it hadn’t been for Donghyuck’s head back on his shoulder, Jaemin would’ve shrugged.

“20 questions?” he giggled. “Sure, go ahead then.” Donghyuck took another long gulp. 

“Any near-death experiences? Accidents, illness...you know, stuff that forces you ever-so close to the edge of reality.”

“There’s been a handful of incidents. Some of them are the only things I remember from certains phases of my life, if I’m honest.”

“The most recent one then.” Jaemin hummed. 

“I got into a train accident on my way to work one time, though I’d hardly call it an accident. I was transitioning to 22 years old at the time, in human years. There was an explosion and I remember blacking out straight after since it was in my carriage, and I woke up in a hospital bed, apparently a month later. Not that I cared much about years, let alone months. Who knows how many I’ve lost track of by this point.” Donghyuck was nodding, taking it all in. Stars sparkled in his eyes. 

“The doctors told me my heart had beat at an impossibly slow rate to keep me alive, despite things going wrong in my surgeries too. I later learnt that everyone else in my carriage died almost instantly,” Jaemin finished off. 

He hadn’t thought of the incident in quite a while, to the point where he wondered if there were any other details he’d missed out, or anything he’d exaggerated or added simply for effect in the moment, unconsciously. Half-truth. 

“Damn,” Donghyuck echoed, the both of them exchanging knowing grins at that. 

“Are you having fun?” Donghyuck drawled, now well past question 20 and transferred to Jaemin’s room. Their little games had continued well into the night, early morning, then dawn. Going back and forth, like they always have. 

Jaemin burst into hysterical laughter and just for who knows how long, his vision flashed bright white, only a gold ring sitting on his bedside table cutting through it all. He laughed as if he were the only person alive, clinging onto Donghyuck in an attempt to steady himself. He laughed as if it was the last time he could; he laughed out of pure sanity, ecstasy, relief all at once that yes, he was  _ safe _ . He’d found a home. 

He’d fallen in love somewhere along the way too. 

“A little too much, I’d say,” he coughed once his vision re-steadied itself. Donghyuck buried his face in his neck, swinging a leg over his. 

“Good, love. Very good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Moral of the story: be gay do crimes (sorta not really)  
> Okay so obviously I really really exploited the open endedness of the prompt, but i couldn't resist writing just something purely fucked up. Sometimes self indulgent, dare I say. 
> 
> Feel free to ask questions about this fic lol it's been living in my head rent free cos even i have questions about my own story....
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Kudos and comments plith


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